


The Bug in the Shoe Affair.

by malfoible



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:52:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4602282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malfoible/pseuds/malfoible





	The Bug in the Shoe Affair.

Solo was in handcuffs…this hadn’t bothered him too much at first…  
He had managed to filch the key which was at present tucked into his cheek…

Then his captor had fastened the handcuffs to a table, had strapped his legs too…  
Solo still wasn’t too concerned…he had been here before…or somewhere just like it.

The table tilted and his captor seemed to enjoy swinging him upside down and back again…

Above him hanging from the ceiling hung a large circular saw…  
Napoleon sighed…occasionally in these situations he had the urge to say quite clearly, why don’t you just shoot me…  
It would save all the trouble of torturing me and building these infernal contraptions…  
he wondered if there an underground network…filled with criminal carpenters and electricians…  
waiting for the call to build some weird machine to torture people…

He brought his thoughts back to the present…

As criminals go, this one seemed lacking in instilling any kind of fear or dread…even with the threat of the swinging saw…

He didn’t seem to want anything…asking very few questions…  
Which was good, as Solo was not the type of man to give up secrets even if he knew any…

The man kept up a stream of inane chatter…which mostly consisted of asking Solo what made him angry…interposed with…slaps on the face and pokes in the ribs with a snub-nosed gun…

Solo…upside down…thought about things that made him angry…the usual big things of course…War…Famine…

Then there were smaller things…annoyances…  
His mother calling him Napoleon…she was almost the only one who did…and while we’re on the subject,  
her naming him Napoleon in the first place…did she want him to get beaten up at school…

Then there were bad manners…he hated those…people unable to be polite…please, and thank you, cost nothing…

He was swung upright again and the blood rushed from his head… his clothes felt uncomfortable… he wished his hands were free to smooth them down…

The man…Solo called him Sniffy, in his head, as he had an unfortunate way of sniffing after each sentence…was talking again…

“So, Mr Solo are you angry yet? Are you ready to kill me?”

Solo looked at him puzzled…  
Why did he need to be angry…at present on a scale of one to ten he was barely at a half…

Except for the table moving…he had not felt in any danger…the sword above was still not moving…he didn’t feel remotely afraid of the man in front of him…

He drifted off again back to his list…

People bleeding, or worse, on his suits…that made him angry…  
and yesterday he had to throw away a perfectly good pair of shoes, covered with blood and guts…  
if this guy had caught him yesterday, he was angry enough then…

A shadow at the door behind the man caught his eye…he closed his so as not to give anything away…  
he was not surprised when a few seconds later the door burst in and the Red Peril entered the room…

Napoleon wanted to tell his captor…”If you want to see anger…there it is in front of you…glorious rage…”  
but he had no chance as Illya wrenched the door from it’s hinges and slammed it down on the man’s head…

“You took your time…”

“You are wearing the wrong shoes…”

The odd words made no sense to Solo…

“Set me free…”

Illya neared the table…Solo was stretched out…his hands tied above his head…his feet…strapped to the corners….

Illya’s lips twitched…almost a smile…

“I like you like this Cowboy…handcuffed…strapped down…”

He ran his eyes slowly down Solo’s body…from the wrists…to the eyes…pausing at the mouth…  
then slowly….moving downwards…slowly…slowly…moving upwards again…  
Flickering from the mouth to the eyes and back again…  
He bent his head and brushed the lips…his tongue slid inside and came back out with the key from the handcuffs…. 

He unlocked Solo quickly then cut the straps holding his legs…

He patted him on the shoulder as Napoleon stood and tested the strength in his legs…

“You Ok? Can you walk?”

Solo nodded…they made their way out of the building and raced to where Illya had left a motorcycle…

“No cars available?”

“This was quicker…put your arms around me and hold tight.”

Solo did as he was told…after all he got enormous pleasure from wrapping his arms round Illya in any situation…

A few minutes of the wind whistling through his brain brought back his cognitive function…

“What did you mean…I’m wearing the wrong shoes…Do you still bug…my shoes…still…”

Illya turned his head….”How else can I find you when you go missing….”


End file.
